Commando Page 22

  Joe Ramsden laughed, "I couldn't believe when you sailed past us. How did you come up with that song?"

  Daddy had finished and was lighting his pipe, "That was Tom here. It worked though."

  "Aye it did. Well young 'un, where did it come from?"

  "I just remembered reading that when sailors, from the time of the Vikings to Nelson, were working, they found they worked better with a rhythm and a song. The slaves in the cotton fields of America worked better with a song." I shrugged, "It just came to me."

  Reg had finished and he lit a cigarette up. "You are a clever lad and quick thinking. Jack told me about that gun emplacement when you pretended to be German."

  "I am just lucky; dad made me learn German and I could already speak French, I pick up languages quickly."

  "It wasn't the language that saved the section, Tom, it was your quick thinking. Even Captain, Er Major Foster, couldn't think that quickly."

  The senior sergeants gave us the secrets of command. Many of them I knew for dad had told me but some were new. We also discovered the other side of command; the paperwork. It appeared to be an anathema to most of them. As we cleared the table and Daddy and I washed the pots and pans Reg said. "Major Foster gave me the nod today. We have another raid coming up. This time it will be something different. Keep the lads on their toes."

  The Royal Engineers who arrived brought with them some damaged railway lines and railway sleepers. They made a two hundred yard length of railway line in the field. It was not particularly straight because the rails were bent but it would serve a purpose. We could blow it up. It only took them a morning and then they were off. I guessed what we would be doing with that. They also left rolls of barbed wire. Sergeant Major Dean gathered the sections around him. "As Sergeant Johnson's section discovered we have to contend with this stuff. Each section will be given thirty feet of barbed wire. We want you to use it to protect part of the perimeter."

  Sean said, "Sarn't Major, where are the gloves and the tools?"

  He grinned, "You have them already." Sean looked confused. "Your hands and whatever you have in your Bergen!"

  It had sounded daunting but we had a lot of equipment. Our section looked to Daddy and me. "Open your Bergens and let's see what we have."

  The new section spread what they had before them. Private Paul Poulson, we learned his nickname was Polly, said, "There's nowt here, Sergeant."

  I held up the toggle rope. "What about this?" It was still not clear to them. I shook my head I held up the commando knife. "And this?" Daddy nodded to me. "Ford and Poulson bring your knives and your toggle ropes and come with me."

  I led them to the wire. Jack Johnson's section had taken their length. "Right, the two of you use your two knives like a pair of scissors and cut the wire. If the knives are sharp enough it will work."

  "Like scissors, Corp?"

  "Yes. Work as a team."

  They quickly worked out how to do it but it cost them a few cuts. They cut one end.

  I pulled a pair of homemade wire cutters out of my battle dress. "Of course if you have made yourself a pair of these then it is even easier." I snipped the wire.

  "That's cheating, Corporal.!

  "No it isn't, Polly, it is called using my head. Now how can you use the toggle ropes to move the wire?"

  This was easier and they managed to put one end through the loop and carry the wire back to the rest without injury. They looked pleased with themselves. We spent the morning placing the wire across an open part of the perimeter. Once we had them thinking then they soon adapted what they had. We had our brew when we had finished. The newly formed WVS helped out; each day four of them would come and make tea during the day.

  We took our mugs and found a quiet corner of the camp. "The thing is, lads, that this isn't like fighting in a regular unit We will be behind enemy lines and we will only have what we carry. There are no stores to go and get something we need. Half the time we will not even know what we need. That's why Corporal Harsker here made those wire cutters. He is handy with his hands and he made smaller ones than those you might have used in your battalions. He has to carry them and we need to have as light a weight as we can." He began to fill his pipe, "Show them what you carry, Corporal."

  I laid out my treasures: my wire cutters, pen knife, my pull cord torch, flint, cigarette lighter and finally, my Luger. Ken Curtis pointed to the pull cord torch, "What's that Corp?"

  "It is a torch which works by pulling this cord. It illuminates the light for a few minutes. If you want the light for longer you keep pulling the cord. This one is from the Great War. They have wind up ones now but I managed to get this one from one of my Uncles who fought in the war."

  "Why the flint Corporal? You have a lighter."

  "And if I run out of petrol, Griffiths? What then?" I saw all of their eyes drawn to my Luger. I picked it up. "And this just gives me extra firepower. I have one spare magazine and although it is hard to get the ammunition here, when we are in Europe I have more chance of getting 9 mm than .45, haven't I?"

  "Where did you get it Corporal?"

  "In Belgium off a dead officer." I saw the looks on their faces. They were bright lads and they joined up the dots.

  The afternoon was spent learning how to demolish railway lines. I had to force myself to stand back. I was the Corporal now. Private Griffiths, Ian, and Bill Beckett would have the initial responsibility of demolition although we used every Commando that afternoon. Only one charge was actually ignited using the new pressure switches. We rigged up an old railway bogey and just used a one pound charge. It proved effective enough. The pressure switches worked and although the line was not wrecked we all saw the potential.

  On the thirteenth of September we heard that the Italians had invaded Egypt. It meant little to the rest; Egypt was a world away but to me it was a worry. Dad was over there. He would be in danger again. Mum had not been sure if it was Crete ort Egypt. Both were problematic. Two days later we watched as German bombers tried to finally destroy London and our will to win. We later discovered that over five hundred bombers were sent by Goering. It would be the climax of the battle of Britain. We did not know that at the time but we knew that it did not bode well for London.

  We also heard the sound of the German guns which were bombarding not only Dover now but also Southend just a few miles to the south of us. The work we had done had merely slowed down the Germans. They now had enormous eleven one inch railway guns. They did not have a great rate of fire but one of them managed to fire a shell fifty five miles. They terrified the civilian population for there was no warning for an attack.

  There may well have been some high up official who decided that enough was enough. Perhaps some relative had lost something. Who knew? Whatever the reason they decided to send in the Commandos. Three days after the German railway guns shelled Chatham in Kent, Major Foster came back from London with a series of aerial photographs. We were being sent back to France.

  This time I was briefed along with Daddy and the officers. "When we go over on this raid we will be attacking multiple targets. We will have three raiding parties and three targets. For that reason each section will only know its own target. We do not want to run the risk of one section being captured and revealing information."

  Corporal White said, "I am sure none of our lads would do that, sir."

  "There are Waffen SS in the Pas de Calais now. Corporal Harsker will tell you about them."

  I nodded, "They are ruthless, Wally. If the lads know nothing then they can reveal nothing."

  "Two sections will be in France for a whole day. Number eight and number three sections will land and then make their way inland to the railway lines. Their task will be to sabotage the railway line. Hopefully the new pressure switches will work and derail the guns."

  Sergeant Johnson asked, "How many railway guns are there, sir?"

  "Two but they are a little further inland than the coastal batteries and they have concrete emplacements to protec
t them from bombing raids. . The RAF has bombed them but they are repairing them as fast as we damage them. The bomb sights aren't accurate enough at the moment. It has been decided to make a ground attack. You will have to place two charges a hundred yards apart. They will be linked by wire so that when the pressure switch on one goes off it sets the other one off too. Repairing that much line takes time." He pointed to the map. "Section 8, under the command of Lieutenant Lloyd, will land from a Motor Launch here and Section 3, under the Command of Lieutenant Reed, will land here. They will also use a Motor Launch. Lieutenant Reed and Corporal Harsker both speak French which may come in handy but you will have to lie up during the day. You won't be able to get back to the MLs in daylight. You will have to wait until the night."

  Lieutenant Lloyd asked, "Where do we hide?"

  The Major smiled, "Wherever you can. But I should warn you that the Germans will be looking for you. The rest of us will be using the LCA and we will be assaulting the guns on the cliffs and then withdrawing the same night. We have the advantage that we have been there once and know the layout. We should be able to do a better job this time. Hopefully they will think we were the only raid as we will have the bulk of the raiders."

  As we were taken through the logistics of the raid I couldn't help wondering about the logic of this. The rails could be repaired and the guns would be better protected. We were like a burglar returning to rob a house less than a week after we had done so. The Germans would be prepared and would be wary.

  "You tell your men in detail about your target and no other. They will all know that the entire troop is taking part but they should not know everything. It would not help them in any case. If you are wondering, as I did, about the wisdom of this act then all I can say is that it will hurt the Germans and it will show our people that we can strike back. London has been badly hurt by the German bombers. Now Kent is being shelled too. This has come from the Prime Minister. It is deemed to be a risk worth taking." He paused and sighed, "One more thing, when we leave we will be photographed. They will be army photographers but the photographs will be shown in newspapers after the event. You know the sort of headline, 'PLUCKY SOLDIERS SHOW HERR HITLER THAT WE CAN FIGHT BACK' that sort of thing."

  I knew it was the sort of thing dad hated but I also knew that the top brass now appreciated good propaganda like this.

  "When do we leave, sir?"

  "Tomorrow night, Sergeant Major Dean. We have today to brief and to practise and tomorrow to be ready. We go to Harwich to embark in the afternoon and sail at dusk."

  The new men were as keen as mustard. The Lieutenant let Daddy brief them. I think he was as nervous as anyone about the daunting prospect of spending a night in Occupied France.

  "Four of you will carry and be responsible for setting the explosives. That is in case anything goes wrong. Those four will lay the charges while the rest of us stand guard. That part should be a cakewalk. The gun will be guarded but we hope that the railway is not." He looked pointedly at the four men. "You have one job to do. Destroy the rails. The rest of us will stop you being bothered and then deal with any sentries. Once it is done we head back to the coast and lay up until night time."

  Private Griffiths asked, "You mean behind enemy lines?"

  "That is exactly what we mean and we will have to trek five miles from the coast to reach the railway line too."

  That night, after we had practised what we would do on the dummy lines the Royal Engineers had built we all checked our gear. We would need to do so again in the morning before we left for Harwich. I wrote a letter home, just in case I didn't get back. We all did. The letters were left on the top of our beds. Those who did return would ensure they were posted. It was a reminder of our own mortality. I said what I needed to say. Dad would understand my words; as for my mum…

  The next morning everyone was up early. Daddy and I paraded our men. I held a cardboard box. Daddy said, "Right lads I want everything with writing on it in here. You just want your equipment and your identity tags. There should be nothing to identify where you are from. If you have a letter for home then leave it on your bed. If the worst comes to the worst then one of us will post it for you with a letter saying… well you get the picture."

  I saw the reality sinking in. Notes, letters, similar to the one I had written, and photographs were dropped in. I smiled, "You will get them back after we return. It's less for you to carry."

  When we reached Harwich it was just after one. I saw the two motor launches and Lieutenant Commander Trimble on the LCA. We put our gear below decks on the ML we would be using and then went back to the jetty. Since we had last been here they had erected a corrugated iron wall around the port. This was partly for security and partly to prevent damage from bombs. Our old meeting hall had been totally demolished by either bombs or shells.

  I saw one of the ratings I recognised from the LCA, "What happened to the survivors of the MTB which was sunk?"

  "You mean Bill?" I nodded, "He was a lucky bugger and no mistake. He was made up to leading seaman and he is on a Motor Gun Boat. He is still attached to Combined Operations, he is just with another troop from Number four Commando."

  I nodded, "If you see him tell him I was asking after him."

  "You are as likely to see him as I am, matey."

  It was sad, the bosun, Bill and the rest of the crew of the MTB had been part of our unit and we would no longer serve with them.

  For the rest of the afternoon we went through all the hand signals we would be using when we were ashore. The times we could speak would be few and far between. The new boys were keen to learn.

  Major Foster came aboard just before sunset. "You chaps have a hard job and I know that you are new but Sergeant Grant and Corporal Harsker are the most experienced Commandos in the troop. Do your job, obey orders and you will all get back safe. God speed."

  He gestured for myself, the Lieutenant and Daddy to follow him to the gangplank. "The launch will return at midnight tomorrow. They have orders to wait for an hour but if the Germans come…"

  Lieutenant Lloyd shook the Major's hand, "I know sir. We shall be there."

  It was a confident call but this would be the Lieutenant's first foray into France.

  We slipped silently into the dark just before dusk. The motor launch was a sleeker vessel than the MTB and was longer. We all had more room but there was just a Hotchkiss 3 pounder and two Vickers. Sadly she was still slower than the E-Boats. I knew that to the south of us were the LCA and the other ML. We had the northern most landing zone. We were using a small beach which was close to Calais. It was a risk and it meant we had the longest journey to our target but the maps showed plenty of cover. This time the RAF was putting on a raid by Wellington bombers. They would bomb our targets. It was hoped that this would distract the German defenders and act as a double bluff. They would not think we would raid them from the ground and the air. In hindsight I can see that the thinking was flawed but, as we sneaked across a choppy Channel, we were hopeful.

  We heard the drone of the bombers as they headed east. The lookout waved to show that he had seen the coast and we prepared to disembark. We saw the searchlights further south and heard the anti aircraft batteries as they pumped 88 mm shells into the air. We were almost at the beach when we heard the first of the explosions. The Wimpeys were dropping their bombs. Putting all that from our minds we leapt ashore. I was the first one in the surf and I raced towards the low dunes. I threw myself to the ground as I heard a vehicle on the coast road. I waved my arm behind me and hoped that the others would hit the sand. The Thompson was cocked and aimed ahead in case it was danger.

  The sky to the south of us was lit up by the ordnance going off. It would take a strong minded sentry or driver not to look south. I lifted my head and saw that the road was clear of vehicles but half a mile down the road was a German road block. We were close to Sangatte and perhaps this was a new security measure. I half crouched and, keeping my eye on the backs of the two Germans at t
he road block, I waved my left arm to send the section across the road. The bombers must have struck something close to the guns for a column of flame rose in the distance. Daddy tapped the back of my head as he passed me and I ran across the road. I took the rear and he led us off to the next waypoint.

  We were heading for Saint-Inglevert. The railway line was half a mile to the east of it. It would have been but an hour along the road, perhaps less, but we had to use the fields, woods and small villages. It would take us much longer but would be safer. We reached the road close to Peuplingues. Daddy and the Lieutenant were waiting. It had been decided that I would go first whenever we were near French houses. My French might help us. I peered down the darkened lane. The huddle of houses looked quiet and I darted across the road. I waved the others across one by one. We had to move half a mile down the lane before we could seek the safety and security of the fields once more. I took us down a route which paralleled the road, the D243. It would guarantee that we found our objective.

  I saw the next village in the distance and knew that we had to keep that half a mile to the east of it. We headed across the field and I discovered it was open and had no cover whatsoever. I felt exposed; it was like the nightmare when you walk down a street in your underwear. In the distance I could hear the receding sound of the Wellingtons' engines and the glow which marked where they had hit some guns. Major Foster was landing to the north of the battery the Wellington bombers had attacked. I hoped they had landed successfully back at their base. The RAF held a special place in my heart. I began to slow down when I saw, in the distance, the large shadow which appeared. It looked to be a building of some description. From its size it looked to be our target. I dropped to one knee. The Lieutenant patted me on the head as he passed me. He and Gordy Barker would get a little closer to identify the building. If my navigation had been good then that would be the bunker where they housed the gun. I say bunker but we guessed it must have been made of concrete. The RAF bombs had done no damage to it at all.